Unexpected
by SkittlezLvr79
Summary: After his return and Trish’s marriage, Jeff has to put the pieces back together and try to prove himself again.
1. Prologue: Shambles

_Story Title: Unexpected_

_Author: Tammi aka Skittlezlvr79_

_Category: Wrestling/Het_

_Rating: M for language and situations_

_Pairing: Jeff/Maria, mentions of Jeff/Trish_

_Spoilers: The result of October 4th episode of RAW. _

_Summary: After his return and Trish's marriage, Jeff has to put the pieces back together and try to prove himself again. _

_Disclaimer: No infringement is intended and I don't own the people used in this work of fiction. They belong to themselves. The company and their respective onscreen persona's belong to Vince McMahon and the World Wrestling Entertainment._

* * *

The scene had become all too familiar over the last few weeks. The bed was a mess of twisted, rumpled sheets and blankets. His listless frame was sprawled haphazardly among the chaos. His eyes were closed and he was oblivious to everything around him at the moment. Headphone ear-buds were pressed tightly into his ears and an IPOD rested on his bare chest. That chest rose and fell steadily as the figure on the bed drew in shuddering breaths in time with the tinny beat of his music.

Matt sighed and shook his head in disgust. He hated seeing his younger brother moping, especially over something like this. But unfortunately, he was the kind of person who had constant battles with depression. He pushed off the doorway and made his way through the clothes and magazines littering the floor. There was no movement from the other man as he stood over the bed so he shook him to gain his attention.

Watery emerald green eyes opened and focused on him. A grimace crossed his face, followed by flat, dull resignation of the situation. An overly loud puff of air fell over his lips as he addressed his unwanted company, "What?"

"You've got to get out of bed. This isn't good…"

"No, what's not good is my life." The words were flat and bitter, touched with a hint of self-loathing. "But of course, it's all my fault."

One eyebrow rose as he looked at his brother. He wanted someone else to pity him so that way it wasn't a one-sided pity party. Too bad. He wasn't in the mood to coddle the younger man and pretend that the hell he was living in was anything less than his own making. "Yeah, it is. You left her three years ago and just expected her to wait for you in case you ever decided to come back? Not very realistic."

Jeff groaned, running a hand roughly over his face and averted his gaze. "Never work a suicide hotline man. The rates would soar."

"Trish is gone. She retired so she could get married and have a normal life with her new husband." His tone softened. "I know that it's not easy but you have to let her go and find a way to be happy for her."

"Easier said than done." The reply was little more than an annoyed grouse; "You should know that better than anybody after everything you went through."

The barb hurt but he kept is features schooled to an impassive look, not about to give the younger man the satisfaction of knowing it had been a direct hit. "I do and that's why you should take my advice."

"But I love her and that's never going to change." A rough swallow trailed the pronouncement. "No matter how much time passes or what happens. Plus, I don't think that I could ever love anyone else."

"You can. Sure, it doesn't seem like it right now but someday you'll fall in love with another girl. And when that day comes, you'll forget all about this."

"I doubt it. No one will ever understand me the way she did…" A sigh tumbled from his mouth, "I should have gone up to Toronto and stopped the wedding."

"We both know that it would have been a bad idea. You ruining the happiest day of her life wouldn't have exactly endeared you to her. She probably would have strangled you with her garter."

Jeff shook his head, his hand barely waving in a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. I'm wrong, ok? Can we change the subject because I'm tired of this conversation?"

"Good because you know that there's plenty of women out there who'd love to date you."

He gave a bitter sounding scoff at the notion. "Oh yeah, I'm a real catch. A former drug addicted flake that has trouble keeping his job and is still in love with his ex-girlfriend from three years ago. Who could resist that?"

"Since when do you label yourself?" Matt's eyebrows and tone rose in alarm as he studied his brother.

"I don't." A sneer of contempt twisted his lips, "But the internet sure as hell does."

His brows knitted together as he frowned, "Since when do you go on the net? I thought you hated it and swore it off a long time ago."

"Yeah I hate it and I did swear it off."

"Then why did you go on?"

"I just wanted to see…" But instead of finishing his sentence, he merely shrugged.

Confusion was etched into his face and colored his words. "You wanted to see? See what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Jeff, it obviously does if you brought it up. So tell me so I can understand why it got to you."

"I wanted to see what people were saying. About me. My return. Just everything." An indignant, mirthless chuckle punctuated that announcement. "Should've known that it wouldn't be anything good. I mean, it never has been so why would anything have changed?"

Matt folded his arms over his chest and trained a stern glare on the younger man. "Ok, the pity party needs to stop. Feeling sorry for yourself won't do a damn thing but make people not want to be around you. And you don't want that, right?"

"Does it matter what I want?" Jeff posed the question sarcastically and answered it before the older man could. "Because it sure as hell doesn't seem like it does."

"Jeff,"

"No, save it. I'm about lectured out."

"Well I have one more for you and you're going to listen whether you want to or not." He forcefully informed him. "You need to get your ass out of this bed, take a shower and pack your clothes so you can be on time for your flight in the morning. Because this is your last chance and you can't do anything to fuck it up."

"Oh believe me, I know that." He rolled his eyes, " Not only do people keep reminding me but I've got about six people babysitting me."


	2. Chapter 1: Babysitter Barrage

Jeff made his way into the arena; discontent and wishing he was somewhere else. His strides proved that. He wasn't really walking, more like a slow, plodding meander. He waited, not very patiently, as the security guard checked him in and offered directions to his locker room. After he passed the security check in point, he looked up and groaned, seeing that the day from hell wasn't get going to get any better. "Here comes baby sitter number one, right on schedule."

"Hardy!" Ric Flair greeted jubilantly, a wide smile on his lips. The older man had gone out of his way to be extremely friendly to him since his return but he knew that it was at the behest of their boss, Vince McMahon. Still, he had to hand it to older man. He was thorough and determined. When Ric was looking for you, you couldn't escape. No matter how hard you tried. "You're here early."

"Yeah, smooth flight and no traffic." He responded dully, not bothering to muster any enthusiasm. Life sucked and he didn't feel the need to pretend otherwise. Too bad he couldn't voice his opinion out loud. If he did, he'd have to deal with a lot more than just annoying babysitters. He didn't have the energy or desire to convince a physiatrist that he wasn't about to spiral down again. "Lucky me, huh?"

"Every now and then, things work out like you want them to." The former sixteen time world champion intoned sagely and his gaze turned studious. He struggled to keep his features distant and apathetic but it seemed like the veteran could see right through his carefully crafted façade. "But you seem kind of down. Something on your mind?"

That was a loaded question, one he had no intention of answering truthfully. No one in the company knew about his relationship with Trish and he had no intention of letting anything slip now. He knew what he had to do to end this conversation. "Nope, not down at all. Why would I be? I'm the soon to be Intercontinental Champion. All's right in the world."

"That's my boy!" Ric clapped him on the shoulder, his broad smile once again back to full wattage. "I have to meet with Arn. I'll see you later kid."

"Later." He tossed out quickly, relief flooding through him and hurried down the hallway. However, his relief was short-lived. His body tensed as he saw babysitters two and three approaching him. He inclined his head, "Hey Shawn, Paul."

The two members of DX nodded, grinning slightly but didn't stop to talk. He kept his pace brisk, enjoying the temporary reprieve. Solitude was the only thing keeping him semi-sane these days. His steps slowed as he neared the production office. He walked over to the dry-erase board that listed the night's matches and took a deep breath. His name was up there, opposite Johnny Nitro's and it was in green. That made it official. Tonight, he'd win his second Intercontinental championship.

"Hey Jeff…" A voice to his right greeted tentatively, "Congrats."

A little pang shot through him as he turned his head toward Amy. Once upon a time, they had been friends or to be more accurate, she was like the sister he never had. But circumstances changed the relationship and now, she was little more than babysitter number four to him. "Thanks."

She chewed pensively on her lip and shifted from one foot to the other as an awkward silence settled over them. Obviously, it got too much for her to tolerate anymore because she released an overly loud puff of air and forced a smile. "Well, I have to go find Adam and talk about tonight. I'll see you around."

"See ya." His mouth twisted in a frown as he watched her hasty departure.

Did they all have to be so transparent? He knew that he was being watched. No need to keep parading people in front of him as a reminder. With a shake of his head, he pushed his thoughts from his mind and started moving again. He wanted to make it to his locker room before babysitter number five found him. As cool as Shane McMahon could be, he talked way too damn much. Of course that was better than babysitter number six, the infamous Johnny Ace.

He finally found his locker room and quickly ducked inside. He dropped his bag down onto the wooden bench with a heavy, despondent sigh. His body followed suit, tiredly flopping down on the bench. He leaned his aching head against the cement wall and closed his eyes, determined to enjoy what little peace he had left. But unfortunately, life rarely worked out the way he wanted it to.

He hadn't been in there long before the door opened and someone else entered the room. When the person's footsteps halted abruptly, he knew that whoever had come hadn't expected anyone else to be there already. He briefly considered greeting his roommate but decided against it, not feeling up to making idle conversation.

"Uh…Jeff?"

It was a woman's voice and quickly caught his attention. He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward the sound, his gaze finding Maria. "Yeah?"

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

She was fighting a grin and losing, "Because you're in the women's locker room. Now unless there's something I don't know about you, I don't think this is where you're supposed to be."

"Shit!" Jeff jumped to his feet and grabbed his bag, face flaming in embarrassment. He knew that he should just scurry away but he felt like he had to explain what happened; before it got completely twisted and made it's way around backstage. "Sorry, the damn security guard gave me the wrong room number. I had no idea…"

"Don't worry about it." She interrupted his rambling apology with a smile and then offered him a wink. "It'll be our little secret."

"Thanks. Already have the reputation of being weird, no need to add pervert to it." He gave her a grateful nod as he crossed the room and hurried out into the corridor. When the metal door banged shut, he leaned against the wall and blew out a ragged breath.

"I better get it together, before someone thinks I've lost my mind and I end up in a mental institution."


	3. Chapter 2: Sound Advice

Jeff sat on the bench in the locker room, his head bowed over the belt splayed across his lap. The golden face threw his reflection back at him and he sighed heavily. He could vividly remember the first time he won the Intercontinental championship. It was exciting and gave him a sense of validation. Everywhere he went he wore the belt with pride. But this time, it was different.

There was no excitement. No sense of validation. The only thing he felt as he stared at the belt was a sad, hollow emptiness. He doubted that he'd be parading around the grocery store displaying his achievement like he had the first time. Of course there was one glaring difference between now and the first time he had won the belt.

Trish was gone.

The first time he won the I.C. title, they had been starting out in their relationship. She had been so happy for him. Possibly even more excited and proud than he had been. Even though they both knew his title run was not going to be for the long term, they celebrated as if it was. And when their impromptu party ended, they spent hours talking about their respective futures in the business and where they hoped they'd personally be in five years.

All of her dreams had come true. Trish became one of the best women's champions in the history of the WWE. She found the right guy and got married, walking away from the business at the top of her game. If she ever decided to come back, her return would be welcomed, celebrated. And knowing her it wouldn't take her long to reclaim the glory she left behind.

But while she had been successful in obtaining her dreams, he failed miserably. Nowhere on his list of personal or professional goals were being fired twice by two different companies, pushing away the love of his life and ultimately damaging the relationship beyond repair or spiraling down into the hell of drug addiction. Yeah, he overcame his addiction and the WWE hired him back but the one thing he wanted to repair, he couldn't. No matter what he did, he lost Trish forever.

He lifted his head, letting out a tremulous breath and closed his eyes. A drink would be damn good about now. It always took his mind off the fact that his life sucked. By the time he was completely numb, he couldn't remember his name let alone what made him need to get that way.

"Hey Hardy." Shawn Michael's greeted as he swept into the locker room and dropped down on the bench beside him. He inclined his head toward the belt still spread out across his lap, "Congrats man."

"Thanks." He tried to feign excitement for his idol's benefit. "Just can't believe that I have the chance to hold this again."

"I know what you mean. Don't forget, a few years ago I thought that I'd never wrestle again. But god works in mysterious ways."

He forced himself not to flinch at that remark and nodded vehemently. "That's true."

"Then why are you so down?" Shawn inquired knowingly, "You should be on top of the world but everyone can tell you're not. So don't waste time denying it."

Jeff debated if he should just tell the other man the truth but decided that it was best if he kept it vague. "I was just thinking about how much things have changed since the first time I was IC champ."

An eyebrow arched, "Professionally? Or personally?"

"A bit of both, I guess."

"That means it's the latter." HBK chuckled and shook his head. "So, who is she?"

"Huh? There's no girl…"

A heavy sigh let him know that his pathetic attempt at denial was not well received. "A guy only gets that low when there's a woman involved. So quit wasting time and spill it. This girl obviously meant a lot to you so tell me how much."

"She was the one I never should've let get away."

"Ah," Shawn nodded in understanding. "So what's brought on this sudden onslaught of nostalgia about her?"

"She got married recently." He admitted sheepishly. "And it's got me thinking about what I could've done differently. If I should have called her and told her that I still loved her before the wedding…"

The icon shook his head. "I know that it's hard to let someone go when you love them but if it was meant to be between you and Tris…" He paused and cleared his throat with a cough. "this woman, then things will work out how they're supposed to when all's said and done."

"And if it wasn't meant to be?"

"Then be glad that you got out of it before it was too late."

Jeff nodded, not accepting the answer but seeing the logic behind it. It didn't really ease the ache in his chest though. "It does get easier, right?"

"Sure kid, eventually." The former world champion rolled his eyes. "It's gonna sting for a long time but you're still young. You still have plenty of time and opportunity to have that next great heartache."

"Actually, I don't want to go through it again." He expelled roughly, raking his hand through his hair. "I'm never going to feel about someone the way I felt about her. So why bother to go through the motions when you know that it's only going to fail?"

"Nothing is written in stone, except the commandments." Shawn drawled with a tired laugh. "And take it from someone who loved and lost more times than he can count, love comes along again when you least expect it to."

He didn't bother to watch his childhood idol leave. His mind was on the knowledge the man had imparted. As much as he respected the heartbreak kid, he knew that the older man was wrong about this one.


	4. Chapter 3: Giving Comfort

Jeff stayed in the arena for a half an hour after RAW ended. Not because he wanted to though. It was a strategic maneuver on his part. Staying longer meant that no one could claim that he left too early and it also increased the chance that most of his babysitters were long gone. There was also the added bonus of not having to deal with the annoyance of a congested parking lot. The less people still around, the less time it took to get out of the lot.

Making sure he had all his gear, he closed up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He sighed as he made his way through the fairly empty halls and outside. The night was cool, the air crisp and he cursed himself for not wearing a thicker shirt or a jacket. As he was headed toward his car, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes focused on the person standing by the gate, her cell phone clutched in her hand.

She was alone and from her wilted posture, he could tell that she was upset. He wanted to be able to ignore her and go to the hotel bar so he could get drunk and forget his troubles, like he had planned. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type of person who could do that. Groaning he changed direction, heading over to where she stood. Stopping a few feet from her, he cleared his throat with an exaggerated cough. "Kind of a cool night to be hanging out in a practically deserted parking lot."

Maria whirled around, startled but relaxed once she saw who it was. She sniffled and wiped her red-rimmed eyes with a crumpled tissue. "Oh, hey Jeff. I wasn't hanging out, I was talking…"

She trailed off, eyes going to her cell phone. A small whimper trickled over her lips and she blinked, a few errant tears sliding down her cheek. "No, talking isn't the right word for what I was doing. Because I was yelling and that's a lot louder."

"Are you ok?" He unwittingly echoed her earlier words but the concern in them was genuine as he watched her almost violently shove her phone into her pocket.

"You know, he pretends to be so straight edge. Said he'd never do anything to hurt me or make me lose trust in him," She said softly, brokenly. "Obviously, it was a lie. Because when I called him, someone else answered his phone."

His heart sank, knowing where this was going. But maybe there was a perfectly logical reason why Phil's phone wasn't answered by Phil. "It was probably laying around the locker room and that's why someone else answered it. You know how it is."

"But how many people answer when someone else's fiancée is-is-is…" She broke down, hands covering her face as loud, gasping sobs shook her body. But she managed to get the last part of her sentence out in a high-pitched wail. "Screwing them!"

Jeff shifted uncomfortably, not sure if he should do anything. It wasn't like he knew her well enough to offer her a comforting touch or embrace. But he had to do something to let her know that he understood and was sorry for her. Tentatively, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry."

She stepped into him, dropping her hands and burying her face in his shoulder. It surprised him but he managed to wrap his arm around her consolingly and lightly rubbed her back. "It could be a mistake. Maybe whoever it was just did it to be nasty or they were playing a joke on you."

Gripping his shirt tightly, she shook her head in misery. The certainty in the gesture and the way her sobs grew more intense told him that there was no mistake. That not only was she positive about what her call had interrupted but that it had happened before. He sighed, mentally adding another tally to the list of relationships destroyed by an affair with a co-worker. His eyes went down to the small, delicate hands clutching him and noticed something off about them.

The usual sparkle that radiated from her ring finger was gone. It never left her finger, not even when she was interviewing. She usually just twisted it around so that only the band showed. So the fact that it was missing in action was troubling. "What happened to your ring?"

"I threw it into the street." Maria informed him thickly, separating herself from him and swiping at her eyes. "Hope it gets run over by an eighteen wheeler! Or falls down into the sewer."

His gaze drifted out to the busy street and he sighed heavily. She had done it in anger, an irrational moment of rage that she'd regret later when she was calmer. That left only one thing to do and he was the only one who could do it. "I'll go get it. Did you notice where it landed?"

"Don't bother." She crossed her arms over her chest; hands rubbing at her exposed, goose bump covered arms. "I don't want it anymore. Not when I know what a lie it represents."

"But what happens if you two work things out? He'll want to know what happened to the ring."

She scoffed bitterly at that, "There's nothing to work out. I forgave him once and told him what would happen if he did it again. He didn't listen so now, he has to suffer the consequences."

"If that's what you really want." Jeff nodded, deciding not to get further involved in this whole mess. He had first hand knowledge about how painful the end of a relationship was and couldn't offer her any real advice on how to get over it. Not when he was still feeling the effects of a relationship that ended three years ago. "Are you all right to drive?"

"I'm not driving." She took a breath and released it slowly. "Torrie is but she's still inside. She had an interview with the website and you know how they tend to run long."

"Ok," He slowly started backing away; "I'm heading back to the hotel then. Sorry that you had to go through this."

"Thanks for listening." A small, crooked smile touched her lips. "It really helped me to have someone to talk to."

He nodded and turned, more determined than ever to get to the bar and start to forget this night.


	5. Chapter 4: Numbness

Was that beer number ten or beer eleven? Jeff wondered as he stared at the empty bottle in front of him. But his mind was too fuzzy to produce an answer. It was just another reminder of how much things had changed. Used to be that he'd never have more than a beer or two after a show but those days had long since passed. Now he welcomed the numbness that alcohol provided him with so he'd drink until he forgot everything, including his name.

It was easier that way. Hurt a lot less. For a little while at least. Of course the hangover that he suffered through the next morning sucked and then he'd remember how badly he missed her. And the vicious, cruel cycle would just start allover again.

"Life sucks." He muttered under his breath and glared at the empty beer bottle, debating on whether or not he should have one more beer or call it a night.

When bartender passed by and he signaled the older man, waving a finger in the air and calling out his order. "I'll have another."

"You sure?" The bartender questioned, his face betraying how unsure he was about serving him another drink. "Cause you've had a lot already."

"Yeah man, I'm sure. Celebrating my big win." He said derisively, lips twisted in a sneer, eyes rolling in annoyance. "Can't you tell man? I'm on top of the fucking world!"

"Ok," The older man said hesitantly. "I'll get you another beer but only if you're not driving."

He pulled his key card from his pocket and held it up for inspection. "See? I'm stuck here for the night. So no worries. Make with the beer."

Another bottle of Budweiser was placed in front of him and he inclined his head in thanks. It was funny how manners always seemed to creep up on you even when you didn't intend to use them. Pushing aside the unwanted observation, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow from it, pretending to savor the taste. Truth was, he stopped tasting them a long time ago.

"They say that people who drink alone are either anti-social or miserable." A soft, amused voice stated from beside him. "Since I can tell that you're not anti-social, it must be the misery thing."

He looked at the woman standing beside him in confusion, brows knitted together. In his inebriated state, he couldn't figure out where this conversation was going. But she kind of looked like Trish so he wouldn't get rid of her just yet.

"So I had to ask myself why such a good looking guy would be so unhappy." The blonde said smoothly, sidling closer to him. "Then I realized that you must be miserable because you haven't met me yet."

Jeff blinked, partly in surprise and partly because he saw three of the woman. But he made no attempt to respond. Not sure that if he opened his mouth, the answer he gave would be the right one.

"So sugar, why don't we remedy that little problem right now. Come up to my room with me and I'll introduce myself all night long." She offered him a devilish smirk then licked her lips seductively. "I think that will lessen your misery."

His eyes drifted over her and felt a ripple of dismay surge through him. She really did look like Trish. The same blonde hair and petite, trim frame. For a minute, he contemplated accepting her offer and using her to ease his loneliness for the night. After all, he was a man and this chick was obviously willing. He opened his mouth to respond but no words would come out because his tongue felt too heavy to move.

"You game baby?" The blonde practically purred in his ear, her hand settling on his thigh and sliding upward.

"He would but he's with me." Someone informed the woman coldly and an arm settled loosely around his shoulders. Lips pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his cheek. "Sorry I was late honey but you know how traffic is."

"Maria?" He asked dazedly, clueless as to how she got there.

The brunette diva threw a look at the blonde, "Thanks for keeping him company until I got here."

"Sure thing." The blonde said sourly, her face looking as if she bitten into a lemon. Her eyes swept over him once again then she stalked off dejectedly.

Maria waited until she was out of earshot then turned her attention to him. She studied him carefully and nodded slightly to herself. "How about I help you upstairs and into your room before some other skank tries to take advantage of your precarious situation."

Jeff stared at her for a second then nodded dumbly and allowed the tiny brunette to help him out of the bar.


	6. Chapter 5: The Morning After

The phone rang shrilly, jolting him from his sleep. Jeff groaned, burying his aching head under the pillow to block out the unwanted noise. He held the pillow tighter and tried to will the ringing to stop. But it persisted and even seemed to get louder. With a sigh, he shoved the pillow off his head and snatched the phone from its cradle.

"What?" He croaked out, his voice thick and raspy from non-use.

Instead of a human that he could release his pent up frustration on, he was subjected to an overly chipper automated wake-up call. He rolled his eyes at the annoyance and slammed the phone down, cutting off the robotic voice. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes against the brightness filling the ugly hotel room.

He expelled a tremulous breath, "Life sucks."

Just as he was about to roll over to go back to sleep for a while, there was a knock on his door. Lines of pain surged through his throbbing head and he winced as the knocking became persistent. Since whoever the hell it was obviously wasn't going to give up, he reluctantly got out of bed. The infuriating sound continued as he crossed the room and he wrenched the door open with a low growl.

Maria beamed at him, the picture of cheerfulness as she thrust a cup toward him. "I figured that you could use this."

The look he trained on her was perplexed and caused another pain to shoot through his head as his eyebrows drew together. "How did you…"

His question died on his lips as jumbled images skittered through his mind. They were fuzzy but he could recall seeing her face in a few of them. He accepted the offered cup and released a shaky breath. "Thanks. You want to come in?"

"Sure." She entered the room and turned toward him as he closed the door. A small trickle of laughter bubbled from her as she took in his disheveled appearance. "Well, I guess I don't need to ask how you're feeling this morning."

"If you did, the answer would be I feel like there's someone inside my head, repeatedly driving a sledgehammer into my brain then setting it on fire." He paused to take a sip from the cup she gave him and almost choked on the vile tasting liquid. It wasn't the coffee he had been expecting. Sniffing it, he grimaced. Whatever was in the cup, smelled and tasted like disgusting medicine. "Not to be rude but what the hell is this?"

"It's an old family secret. It tastes horrible but it really does get rid of a hangover, even a nasty one like you have." She informed him, cocking her head to the side as she studied him carefully. "But it won't help with the fuzzy memory."

"Yeah, well, I'm used to that." A rueful grin spread against his lips as he looked at her. "I think I remember some things from last night though."

"Oh really?"

He concentrated hard, ignoring the stab of agony that it caused him. "You ran into me downstairs in the bar. Saw I was smashed and helped me back to my room."

"After I saved you from some ring rat who was looking to take advantage of your precarious state." She clucked her tongue. "Figured you wouldn't mind, unless of course you wanted to join the STD club."

"Thanks." He took another sip from the cup and made a face as he forced himself to swallow the concoction. "But I wasn't the only one that had a bad night. How are you doing?"

Maria tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes. "He called. Tried to lie about what I heard. When he figured out that I wasn't buying his excuse, he confessed it all."

"And?"

"Then I dumped him." She shrugged, "Told him where he could find his ring and what he could do with it once he did."

He gave a chuckle of appreciation and drank some more of her hangover cure. As he drank the unappealing liquid, he could feel her eyes assessing him. The feeling was uncomfortable, like she was trying to see inside his head. "What?"

"I was just wondering if maybe you were having a similar issue."

Jeff chuckled but it held no humor and sounded bitter to his own ears. "Why would you think something like that?"

"Because no one intentionally drinks that much unless they're trying to numb themselves."

The petite brunette was more insightful than he thought and the observation hit that still open wound. He looked own at the rug, scowling. "Maybe I'm just a drunk. It's just one more addiction and label to add to the long lists."

"You're not a drunk." Her tone was soft but firm. "You're someone who's in a lot of pain and it's not physical pain. It's emotional. The kind that happens when you've suffered through love gone wrong."

"It didn't go wrong." He mumbled, eyes still downcast. "I killed it."

"You don't know…"

"I fucked up. She married someone else. End of story." He snapped angrily, wishing that she'd let this go.

Maria gave him a small smile and he knew that once again, he wasn't going to get what he wanted. "In this life, nothing is ever really an end. Just a new beginning. So don't let the negative thoughts get to you. It only makes the pain worse."


	7. Chapter 6: Die Chilvary

The house show had been an annoyance and for more reasons than it falling on a day they were supposed to have off. All six of his babysitters had seemingly made it a point to check in on him. That confirmed his suspicion that they found out about his night of over-indulgence. He decided not to deny it and offered an excuse to make it seem like it was nothing more than a celebration that had gone a little too far. Thankfully, that worked and got them off his back for the rest of the night.

Jeff couldn't wait until the morning. After flying home, he could drink himself into a stupor if he wanted to and not have to worry about anyone reporting him or giving him a lecture about it. If not, he'd climb into his king size bed and listen to his Ipod until it was time to go back on the road. And again, there'd be no lecture or disapproving eyes cast upon him. Because Matt was leaving late in the afternoon for the Smackdown house shows that started on Thursday.

He headed out into the parking lot, head down and mind on other things. Vaguely he heard his name being called but didn't look up at the sound, fearing it was one of his babysitters. Someone touched his arm and he bit back an aggravated groan.

"Hey, didn't you hear me calling you?" Maria's tone was concerned.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I was lost in my head."

She smiled, "I wanted to see if my cure worked."

"Yeah," He nodded slowly and gave her a half-smile. "About a half an hour after I finished drinking it, I stopped begging for my head to explode and end my misery."

"I'm glad." But she seemed distracted, her gaze drifting back toward the arena door.

"You waiting for someone?"

"Torrie." She rolled her eyes. "As usual. I swear she's going to be the first person to ever be late to their own funeral."

He frowned, "I think she left already."

"Huh?"

"After the lingerie pillow fight, while I was stretching for my match, I saw her heading down the hall with her dog and bags."

"No, she couldn't have." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and her hand reappeared with her cell phone. Her eyes widened slightly and she hit a button, bringing the pink device to her ear. As she listened, her face fell in dismay and hung up with a muttered "damn.".

"You need a ride back to the hotel?" He didn't really want to offer. But a combination of manners and conscience forced him to. Plus, he did owe her for last night. "I'm not leaving until one in the afternoon so it's not a problem."

She looked hesitant, like she knew that he really didn't want to. "Are you sure? Because I could always take a cab…"

"I'm sure."

"You're a lifesaver." She squealed, shocking him by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. When she left him go, she grabbed the handle of her bag and offered him a beaming smile that was almost blinding. "Since I'm not psychic you can lead the way to the getaway vehicle."

Chuckling at her enthusiasm, he cut across the parking lot to the rented black Nissan Maxima. Unlocking it, he tossed his bag into the back seat then took hers and repeated the action. Slamming the back door, he got into the driver's seat as his companion climbed into the car. He started the car but let the engine idle for a few minutes, warming it up. Absently, he played with radio buttons and cast looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

Maria busted him, a small smile on her lips. "Go on Jeff. You can ask."

"H-h-how," He was surprised that she knew his mannerisms so well. "How'd you know that I wanted to ask you something?"

"Other than the fact that you keep looking at me when you don't think I'm looking and playing with the radio?" She rolled her eyes, "I've had to answer a lot of questions the past few days and expect more to come."

"Your breakup was bad-"

She giggled at that. "Being generous huh?"

"Ok, so it was one of the worst breakups to have to go through. But you don't seem all that destroyed over it." His eyes squinted as he looked at her and his head tilted to the side in study. "How do you do it?"

"It hurts. I have moments where it feels like I'm going to break down and cry or scream. Sometimes, I want to hit something. But then I realize that moping and destructive behavior isn't going to help. At some point in time, I will fall in love again and could possibly feel this way if that doesn't work out."

He opened his mouth to refute that notion but closed it without one protesting syllable being spoken. To tell her that it did would be a lie. And while it would feel good to have a partner in pained longing, he couldn't do that to her.

"So even though it's hard, I try to find the positives in the situation to concentrate on. It helps combat the anger and hurt."

"Like what?"

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Like the fact that I found out that he was a no good, lying cheater before I married him. That I made the intelligent decision to let him go instead of hold on and end up miserable. Or the fact that I can focus all my attention on my training and not on him and his needs."

Jeff digested that in silence. But the idea that you could get through a broken heart was absurd to him. He sighed and shook his head. "I wish I could be half as positive as you are."

"Just let go of the pain you're holding onto and you will be."

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how he'd never again be able to be the type of person who saw the glass as half full. But it was better if he didn't respond because inevitably, he'd only end up hurting her feelings. Putting the car in drive, he headed off toward the hotel so that this night could end.


End file.
